A Very Merry Christmas
by Rusty Tater Tot
Summary: A small story about Christmastime in the Hooper-Holmes household! This one doesn't have a depressing ending like the other ones, promise!


Sherlock and Molly sat on the sofa in 221B Baker Street. Well, to be more specific, _Sherlock _sat on the sofa. Molly lay with her head in his lap. They both watched telly quietly, content with the silent comfort they had found in each other.

Molly and Sherlock were currently living together. They were not married, and, as Molly was heard saying to Mary Watson, "I have no hopes for that in the near future. Sherlock is brilliant, and he thinks that papers and rings won't make a difference in our life." Still, they were together in every way that counted.

It was to be Christmas the next day. Molly hadn't said anything, but she was nervous. Sherlock had undoubtedly picked up on it, and, despite his lack of exercise when it came to sentiment, he had also realised what the cause of it was.

"No Christmas parties this year, Molly," he had promised. "It'll be just the two of us." And, of course, Molly was fine with this.

"If I didn't know better," Sherlock had once said, "I would think that there was some type of telepathic bond between us." "It goes deeper than telepathy," Molly had replied.

And it was true. They could go hours without speaking, but they could feel the other's presence, and there was no doubt that it was calming to both of them.

Molly's cat was there, as well. Toby had been reluctant to leave the familiarity of Molly's flat at first, and there were times when he wished he were there rather than in Sherlock's 'bored zone,' but overall he was enjoying himself quite a bit.

There was silence for some time in the Hooper-Holmes flat. The telly made noise, and the fire crackled, and Toby mewed happily, but there was no doubt that it was indeed silent. Molly found herself getting caught up in the show they were watching. In fact, there were times when she almost forgot that her head was in Sherlock's lap, and the hands that were weaving her hair into some intricate design were his.

Almost, but not quite.

The episode ended, and Molly stretched. "Well, that was quite possibly the most horrible thing I've ever seen," Sherlock said as Molly switched the telly off. Molly gasped jokingly. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm surprised at you," she said. "I personally can't believe I've never seen an episode of Doctor Who since before now."

Sherlock grimaced. "It had horrid logic," he said. "I mean, _honestly_. Plastic mannequins invading Great Britain, stopped by some silly man in a big blue box? Telephone boxes aren't blue!" Molly grinned. Sherlock, oblivious, continued ranting. "And since when are plastic mannequins a villain? And to discover exactly where they were hiding because they were _coincidentally _standing right on top of that- -the universe is rarely so lazy as to allow something like _that _to happen! Honestly! You'd have to be as smart as, well, me!"

Molly couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock turned around and glared at her. When he realised he had been set up, his expression froze. A moment later, it turned to a smile. "I really should have a word with the writer," he said, and Molly hugged him. "I bet you'd scare hell out of him," she agreed. "No more silly blue phone boxes or plastic mannequins or coincidences."

Sherlock added, "No more spacemen with silly hair, either." Molly froze. "I like David Tennant," she said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "He's hot," Molly said smugly, and walked into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock to work through the meaning of her words.

A moment later he walked into the kitchen. Molly was putting water on the stove. "Not as hot as me, though, right?" he asked Molly quizzingly. Molly laughed and pretended to contemplate the question. "I don't know," she mused. "His eyes are very brown."

"Contacts," said Sherlock immediately. Molly glared at him. "Oh, come on, it's obvious," said Sherlock. "I would go into all the details, but I'm sure you don't… Really? Don't you trust my judgement?" for Molly had whipped out her smart-phone and was typing rapidly.

A moment later she looked back up at him. "Really, how did you know that?" she asked. Sherlock sighed. "We've been through this before," he said, moving towards Molly and putting an arm around her. "I'm the smartest, tallest, toughest, hottest, bestest man in all of the world."

He looked jokingly down at her. She smiled up at him and accepted his kiss. It quickly escalated to where he was standing with his hands around his waist and she was holding his face in her hands. He broke off mid-kiss though, looking perplexed. Molly raised an eyebrow slightly and backed off.

"Seriously, he isn't as hot as me?" Sherlock asked, probing Molly with his eyes. She laughed.

* * *

The next day the two slept in. Molly woke up first, and, a half-hour later, Sherlock woke up as well. "Merry Christmas," he said to Molly as he entered the kitchen to find her cooking breakfast. "And to you," she replied, and leaned over to kiss him.

After they had eaten their fill, they started to clean up. "What are you going to do today?" asked Molly. Sherlock thought for a moment. "I thought we were going to lunch at the Watson's today," he said. "We are," answered Molly. "That doesn't mean it'll take up the entire day." Sherlock considered this. "Well, we could just walk around," he said after a minute.

Molly nodded. "That'd be nice," she said. Sherlock smiled at her. "That's what we'll do, then," he said.

A few hours later the couple found themselves at the John, Mary, and Carolyn's house. "Hello, Sherlock," said Sherlock. Molly reached over and took the babbling baby out of her father's arms. "Sherlock, just because her middle name is Sherlock, doesn't mean you need to call her Sherlock," she said. "_Second_ middle name," added John.

Sherlock took the child from his girlfriend. "I've disregarded all other names. Her name is Sherlock. That's it." John sighed and turned; he knew that fighting with Sherlock was pointless.

Molly took Carolyn back from Sherlock. "You shouldn't do that, you know," she said to him as she readjusted Carolyn's big pink bow. Sherlock grabbed her back from Molly. "Do what?" he asked innocently. Molly took her once more. "You know what," she said.

At this point Mary came out and saved the poor child from her godparents. "Her name is Carolyn Molly Sherlock Watson, and that's final," said Mary. Molly squared her shoulders and looked Sherlock in the eye.

"You're saying you disregarded _all_ other names?" she asked threateningly. Sherlock didn't meet her eyes. "Well," he began. Molly watched him. She and Sherlock had a very good relationship, to the point where almost everything either of them said that might be offending to some was taken as a joke.

"Well," Sherlock said again, and Molly had to laugh at his discomfort. The consulting detective leaned over and took her hand as they walked into the kitchen.

* * *

The rest of the day had gone well, and now the day was ending with Molly and Sherlock sitting in the same position as they had been the night before, except now Molly was the one with Sherlock's head in her lap.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said softly. Molly, exhausted after the long day, had fallen halfway asleep. "Mm," she mumbled in response, and yawned. Smiling, Sherlock sat up and lay her down on the couch. "Good night, my love," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He turned to leave but Molly, even in her exhausted state, was able to reach out and grab his wrist.

He turned. "Stick around, Sherlock," begged Molly sleepily. Sherlock smiled and returned to her side. Drowsily pressing herself against the back of the couch, Molly made room for Sherlock. He lay down next to her. He listened as her breathing slowly evened itself out, and he soon knew that she was asleep.

The clock chimed. _Midnight_, thought Sherlock. Drawing his voice to a whisper, he said, "Thank you for a merry Christmas, Molly Holmes." Soon he fell asleep, and both of their dreams were tinted golden with memories of mistletoe and gingerbread and embarrassingly low dresses and each other.

_**Author's Note:**_

_Hello, my lovelies! A bit different from my usual stories. I was getting bored and thought, "What don't these people expect to see from me in an April-almost-May fanfiction? Then it hit me: A Christmas Sherlolly story! With a happy ending! This one is dedicated to all you readers who read my stories only for the depressing endings- -this time Molly didn't attempt suicide, Sherlock didn't threaten to kill her if she didn't leave him alone, and neither of them ended up standing on the other's grave. You're welcome!_

_~Rusty Tater Tot_


End file.
